


if only you could hold me

by Jd_lyn



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: After All Out War, Desus - Freeform, Established Relationship, M/M, Run gone wrong, dont do that youll probably die of alcohol poisoning, here i am again asking myself how do i tag this, i suck at keeping characters in character sorry, more angst im sorry, take a shot every time 'everything slowed down/sped up'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:41:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jd_lyn/pseuds/Jd_lyn
Summary: if only you could hold me, i know id be so brave right now





	1. Chapter 1

His breath was like fire in his throat, his legs felt like hey were about to snap in half, leaving him to be gnawed on by the dead. The store was relativity large, and yet he was closing in on a dead end. Paul's words echoed through his mind, "There isn't that many, we shouldn't even need guns." Daryl didn't like the idea of it, but he left his pistol behind, as well as his crossbow. Paul convinced him it would just get in the way. 

Daryl's shoulder slammed into the wall, not slowing down soon enough. He was gasping for air, lightheaded, looking for anywhere to go. He said there wasn't many walkers, yet there was a group just big enough to make Daryl doubt his knife wielding skills. As soon as the group had emerged from the back room, Paul shouted about staying inside, and bolted in the other direction. 

He could see the soft blue, some times green, eyes looking up at him - his boyfriends head resting on his chest in bed the night before. "It'll be simple. In and out, we shouldn't even be gone for a day." He stabbed the first walker that stumbled within arms length, shoulders sagging when he realized there was more than he initially thought. To his right, he noticed a door that was slightly open. It was dark, but he didn't think a he shoved the door open, almost instantly tripping. Daryl fought against the force keeping him on the ground, his arms feeling heavier with each gasp for air he took. Finally, he got up, running before he was even all the way on his feet - the door opening again as rotting bodies followed him in. 

"We could go in, take out the few that are inside, get whatever is useful, simple." Daryl slammed into anther wall, nearly falling backwards from the impact.

His head was spinning more intense than before, he was sure the inside of his throat was tore to shreds from the pain radiating from it, eyes squinting to see anything in the dark back room. There was no doors or windows, just tall, bare shelves to hide behind. Daryl stood there, flush against the wall, gripping his knife tightly. The first corpse stumbled up, and Daryl grabbed it by the throat, slammed his knife into the skull. Pure exhaustion made it difficult to hold it up, walking towards the crowd to shove the body into the others. He worked like a broken record, hoping that he was, in fact, holding down live walkers with the dead ones. 

Daryl made a break for the door, able to hear the few last standing walkers trip over each other to follow him out. A thought crossed his mind as he made it back into the hall. Maybe Paul knew how many walkers were there. 

"Paul!" He broke into the main room of the store, trying to ignore his brain. His boyfriend wasn't anywhere to be seen. He saw the herd chase Daryl into the back room and left. It was a set up to get him killed without doing any dirty work. "Damn it, Paul!"

"Daryl," suddenly he was there, calm as ever, like he was just eating lunch. "Are you okay?"

"What the hell, man! You knew they were in here, didn't you?" Daryl sneered, talking a step back so Paul's hand dropped off his shoulder. "You set me up!"

"What? Daryl no, I had no idea!" 

"Don't bullshit me! We broke the lock on the door, you knew this would go -"

"Daryl, we have to go, we can talk about this later." Paul reached for his hand, but he pulled back again. 

"We get back to Hilltop and you won't wanna talk about this." Daryl growled, his whole stance changing slightly, like he was about to lunge at the other.

"Daryl, please." Daryl glanced frantically between his boyfriend and the doorway. Paul's eyes were trained on the others arm, not listening to him fully.

Daryl looked down at his arm. Blood was soaking into the sleeve of the torn button up. It was Paul's, and Daryl felt a slight twang of guilt in his chest. He only borrowed it because all his shirts were dirty. "Don't ruin it, okay? Unlike someone, I enjoy keeping my clothes looking nice." Paul had teased him, kissing the tip of his nose as Daryl buttoned it up. "You're worried about a shirt? Shit happens, figured you'd know -" 

Paul cut him off, pacing a hand on either side of Daryl's face. Tears glistened in his eyes. "We have to get back to Hilltop, now. Please Daryl."

Daryl turned his arm, so he could see the wound fully, the adrenaline started to wear off, and pain started shooting thought his whole arm. Right above his elbow, clear as the fear on Paul's face, teeth marks ripped through his skin. His heart sank, a million thoughts racing through his mind as Paul shoved him out to the car, yelling about needing to move faster. 

Everything seemed to move in a blur of slow motion; Paul was driving, holding Daryl's hand. He kept taking deep breaths, like he was trying to stay calm, his fingers slipping up to Daryl's wrist to feel his pulse. 

"You can't brink me back." Everything started spinning, his voice seemed to echo throughout the car.

"I'm not loosing you. I can't." His voice cracked, and he didn't even look at Daryl. It was clear he was way out of line for accusing Paul of setting him up; even thinking that was misaligned.

"Damn it, Paul. You bring me back and I'm a risk to everyone inside." He could only imagine the heartbreak his boyfriend was feeling, he seen it in Aaron's eyes when he explained what happened to Eric. He heard in Maggie's screams as they echoed thought the trees as that ugly bat smashed down on Glenn's skull. It was easy to recognize by now, bouncing off the windows of the car.

"We're only a few minutes away, we can amputate it. You're going to be okay. You have to be." Paul's hand moved back to the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.

"Paul, listen to me." Daryl knew he was upset, he was even mad at himself for getting bit. "This happened before I found you again, it must have." He didn't want to lash out at Paul for being so naive, but he felt like he was going to burst with the urge to yell until he was ditched on the side of the road. 

"Damn it, Daryl, we have to try!" The car seemed to move faster. 

"Hey," Daryl reached for Paul's hand, flinching at the pain it caused. "I'm not letting you... get, fuck." His eyelids felt heavy, and the car seemed to be spinning out of control. "Paul." The name left his lips on a breath of air, hardly making any noise at all.

"Fuck, Daryl!" Paul reached for the others shoulder, careful of the bite on his arm. "Hey, wake up, come on!" 

Minutes later, the tired locked up and slid to a stop on the gravel in front of the gates back at Hilltop. Enid was on watch, hand over her eyes, blocking out the sun. "Jesus?" She asked as he frantically pushed the car door open. 

"Open the gates, get Maggie!" He slammed the door shut, biting his lip as he looked over at Daryl. Paul checked for a pulse; it was still there, but very faintly. They would have to hurry.

Maggie was standing next to Enid when Paul turned off the car. Other people too, but he didn't pay any attention to anyone else. "What happened?" Maggie asked, following him around to the passenger side door. 

"Someone grab an ax or something." Paul opened the door, dragging his boyfriends limp body off of the seat, struggling to both move the other and keep the tears in his eyes. Once Daryl fell to the ground, Paul stumbled down with him, everything slowed down. It was quiet, then Enid was holding a machete. His numb finger fumbled with his belt, finally getting it off and securing it high on Daryl's arm with the help of Maggie. He could hear Enid's boots slamming against the ground to get towels to help stop the bleeding. People turning to look away, some inching closer, never experiencing something like this before. Enid was back and grabbing Daryl's hand to pull his arm straight and hold it still. Maggie was shoving the machete into Paul's hand, saying something that wasn't reaching his ears. His eye's were watching Daryl's - whose were flickering open, blinking rapidly. Maggie had his head in her lap, pushing down on his shoulders with all her body weight. 

"Jesus, you have to do it now." Daryl's voice was soft in his ear, like he was holding the younger man close, whispering in his ear. It echoed though his mind, getting louder and more angry with each reverb. Daryl never called him Jesus, said it was a ridiculous name - or something like that/ A hand gripped his shoulder and his eyes snapped forward, meeting Maggie's.

"Do it!" The world went from slow motion to fast forward, and Paul slammed the machete down with as much force as he could muster, raising it up and striking Daryl's arm again. A rough scream left Daryl's throat, laced with pain like Paul hadn't heard before.

Daryl didn't cry much, before or after the turn, and he didn't like talking about it much. When Paul looked down at his boyfriends face, tear soaked his face running back into his hair, it pulled at his chest, knowing he was to blame for not only the bite in the first place, but this pain too - the machete digging though the layers of skin and muscle.

"One more, it's almost off!" Maggie was struggling to hold Daryl's thrashing body down, Enid trying to hold his arm still so he wouldn't loose any more blood than necessary. Paul didn't even realize he swung the blade again until Daryl's body fell still and Enid moved the severed arm out of the way.

"Enid, hold this here. Kal, take over on watch." Maggie took over, a few people moving forward to help move Daryl to the medical trailer. Paul sat back, realizing how much he was crying. He should have done it himself, as soon as he noticed the bite on Daryl's arm. They shouldn't have even split up, they should have stayed together and fought through the crowd. He shouldn't have even told Daryl about the store in the first place. They could be eating dinner in their trailer right now. Instead he was sitting in the dirt, his boyfriend's blood drying to his face and clothes, making the machete stick to the palm of his hand. Daryl's arm - missing a chunk of skin just above his elbow - a few feet away from him.


	2. Chapter 2

Tara drove up to the gates at Hilltop, dollar store sunglasses resting on her nose, a piece of nearly too-stale licorice rolling between her teeth. Rosita scoffed when Tara grabbed the bag off of the shelf on their run, though she wasn't very discreet when she took a few vines for herself when she stayed behind at Alexandria.

Up on the guard post, Kal held a somber-some expression, turning away to open the gates before Tara could pick up on anything; he knew sooner or later word would get out to the other community's. She parked the old Volvo, yelling for Jesus as she shut the door. "Hey, where's Jesus? Rosita found some books when we were out." Kal smiled, maybe Tara could convince Jesus to go see Daryl after so many failed attempts from everybody else.

After the literal hack job of an amputation, barely even inside the gates, Daryl was moved to the medical trailer. Paul, on the other hand, went to the trailer the two had been sharing, and he has yet to leave. That was two days ago, and Daryl's health was declining fast, his risk of never waking up making a rise with each passing moment. It was so out of character for Paul, he never took any time for himself, never let whatever was on his mind to stop him from doing his daily work. For Daryl though, yes, it was a shock, but it seemed he would grab at any possible suicide mission and run with it. The town didn't depend on them nearly as much now as they did before the war, but that didn't mean Maggie needed them any less. Late into her pregnancy, she was mostly bound to office work and casual strolls around. Daryl and Paul were right there with her, helping with anything she asked. Enid was still there, but Maggie pushed for her to finish growing up having as normal of life as possible. 

Paul sat at the dinning table, showered, dressed, fed, and ready to go. For the past few mornings he would wake up, do everything that him and Daryl would do just fine, but when it came to actually facing the community and daily work, knowing Daryl wouldn't be there, that's where he would get stuck. He'd look at the door, and then pace a little bit, then stand and stare at the door some more, then he would sit at the table and loath in the silence that seemed to echo off the walls. Every once in a while, there would be a soft knock at the door, followed by Maggie or Enid, even Kal came by. He felt bad for staying cooped up, and he didn't even have a good excuse.

The knock came, as expected, but this time it was Tara who pushed the door open. "Hey, I really hope you guys aren't having sex on the table or anything, I'm open to a warning if that's the case." She shoved the door open, walking backwards, carrying a small box in front of her.

Paul wanted to smile, or laugh, but he froze. Tara had no idea, nobody must have told her. "You don't know." 

"Don't know what?" Tara was smiling, and set the box down on the table. "Rosita found these while we were out, she thought you might like them." She started stacking the books on the table, pausing when Paul started shaking his head.

"Nobody told you, of course not." Paul stopped, chewing on his bottom lip. "Daryl got bit."

Tara's shoulders dropped, and she felt like she got stabbed in the chest. "What? How, when?"

"It's my fault, we were on a run, clearing out a store I thought was empty. I told him we wouldn't even need anything, and we went and, there was - I don't know, maybe 20? There was like 20, probably more, we split up and he got bit. He didn't realize at first and when we met back up, he was blaming me, he thought I was trying to get him killed. Tara he's more than likely dead because I wanted it to be better, I didn't want to need a gun, for once - just once!" He didn't realize he was crying until Tara was pulling him up out of the chair. "I couldn't even cut it off out there, I had to drive back here and everyone saw it happen." 

"I'm so sorry, I don't even know what to say." She pulled back a little bit, looking at Paul. "Is he doing better, at least?"

"I don't - I don't know, he probably wouldn't want me there." 

"You haven't even gone to see him yet?" Tara looked him in the eye, holding the stare for what felt like hours. "You know that's bullshit, he loves you. Even if he doesn't get better, you're going to regret not spending the last of his time with him, at his side. What have you been doing? Sitting in here, doing nothing? If that's the case go sit and do nothing but be there for Daryl." She hardly let any time for a response before grabbing Paul's hand and leading him outside, all the way to the medical trailer.

Inside, Daryl was hastily spread out on the bed, like he was tossed there and everyone was scared to move him into a more comfortable looking position. His face seemed more sunken in, like he was without a decent meal for weeks. His skin was as pale as the stained sheets under him, a thin layer of sweat glistening over his entire body.

"Jesus, hey." Maggie stood from the chair, watching Paul as he took cautious steps to the side of his bed, a small gasp leaving his mouth when Daryl's left arm came into view; or rather, the lack of one. Behind him, he could hear Maggie and Tara exchanging soft words. As if Daryl only had a bloody stump and already looked like a walker. It hit him hard and fast, this was real, and he was busy hiding in his trailer while Daryl was dying. 

A few hours passed, and Paul was sitting, holding Daryl's hand. Maggie and Tara left at some point, he wasn't exactly sure when. His blood ran cold as soon as he heard harsh breathing. He didn't want to look up, he couldn't - Daryl's hand was pulling away from his slightly. Paul closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, he let the hand go and reached for his knife. It would be simple; quick and easy, then it would be over. The once slim and light blade now felt like concrete, moving out of its sheath over minutes instead of seconds. Quick and easy. Paul sat back, just about to open his eyes and end the suffering of his boyfriend.

"Paul? What happened to my arm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daryl stan #2 here, hate to break it to you guys but i think daryls gonna die soon so hopefully its quick for him and he doesnt suffer he doesnt deserve that  
> also writing this i realized this is absolute shit maybe ill edit it or smthn later on

**Author's Note:**

> ik i said i have light hearted stuff i wanted to mess around with and i tried but so far its sad,, sorry. this one is absolute shit, its entirely from my notes on my phone, which id add to in bits and pieces when i couldnt sleep. i kinda like how it turned out tho, so i guess thats a plus  
> title and summary i got from joanie by the front bottoms thank god for this band they inspire me so much


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